Revenge in Prose Form
by QueenofBookworms
Summary: It's the English class Wolf's been dreading. Fourth in Revenge series. Rating for a bit of Wolf's not so elegant English.


**Revenge in Prose Form **

"_Macbeth_?" asked Wolf dubiously. "You want me to play the Sergeant from _Macbeth_?"

"Um, yeah?" asked the teacher, stepping back.

"You want me to play a character from a play written in the fifteenth century, when I am actually here to ensure that you are not attacked by a terrorist organisation?"

"Sixteenth century, actually."

"_DOES THAT EVEN MATTER_?"

The teacher yelped, and scuttled back, then glared at him. "Violence against women. Britain says no."

"Yeah, well, let me do my job."

"I'm sure that, if a terrorist were to attack, you would be able to defend us effectively, whilst the fact that you were just playing a Sergeant wouldn't matter…"

"It does. My pride, for example."

"So?"

"It matters."

"No one ever choked to death whilst swallowing his own pride."

"What?"

"It's a quote. From somewhere," the teacher waved her hand about, "and it means that you should swallow your pride —"

"No."

"But you would be able to characterize it so much better than any of us!" Alex exclaimed. Wolf spun and glared at the boy. It didn't work, but the glare did scare those around the Rider boy.

"Rider, is it? Yeah, heard about the shit—"

"Don't swear! Not in front of the other children!"

"They've heard it often enough on TV," Wolf growled at her, and turned back to Rider. "The _shit_," he ignored the teacher's scandalised gasp, "you've pulled on the other two, and I am not going to stand for it."

"That's what they thought." Rider's smirk was infuriating, and pompous, and said I'm-so-much-better-than-you.

Wolf growled.

"And I don't care. You're not going to be able to—" Wolf continued.

"That's enough! I don't stand for any of my students being terrorised by any adult!"

"And what if those same students have been terrorising SAS soldiers?"

"How could a fifteen-year old terrorise SAS soldiers?"

"Quite easily, apparently."

"And thus, I am now concerned about the capacity of our apparently-best trained soldiers to defend our lands. Now, it doesn't seem quite surprising we've lost some 180 soldiers in Afgahistan."

There was silence. Wolf fixed his Glare-Number-Three-(Guaranteed –To-Terrorise-Fellow-Soldiers-and-Terrorists) TM onto the teacher.

"Okay, fine, sorry. I'm sure you lost some dear friends," said the teacher, in what she probably thought was a kind voice. "Now, the Sergeant appears and informs the King, this is King Duncan, of how brilliantly Macbeth and Banquo fought at the two battles. Now, here's the script," she said, as she attempted to give the script to the soldier.

Emphasis on the word _attempted_.

His glare intensified, and he stormed to the back of the room, ignoring the stares from the students, and an accidental (he hoped) slap on his back, and then, when he turned around, the very disappointed face of the teacher.

"Okay, so we can't get an actual soldier to play the part of the Sergeant. Does anyone want to?"

Alex put his hand up. Wolf grew very worried.

Very, very worried.

Very, very, very, very worried.

More students were chosen to play the parts of the King, his advisors and other randoms that resulted in Wolf being rather glad he'd never actually had to study _Macbeth_.

Perhaps.

Wait, did he study _Macbeth_? He couldn't remember. Maybe he'd repressed those memories.

Pfft. It didn't matter.

The class performance started. Wolf winced at the bad acting, the stumbling over old-fashioned and disused phrases, and then Alex began his part.

With a glare. And a growl. And with a terrible parody of Wolf.

The class reacted with laughter, and then terrified glances at Wolf. Then more laughter, when the actors decided to go along with Alex and abandon the script. Then there were more terrified glances at Wolf.

Wolf was rather happy the kids were scared of him. He was not happy that Alex was willing to parody him in front of the class.

Even the teacher was laughing. Goddamn her.

Stuff the _Violence Against Women, Britain Says No_. When annoying teachers insulted him by laughing at a parody…Wolf growled.

He didn't want to be murdered. Or fired.

He wasn't sure which one was worse.

Damnit, he was acting like that Granger girl in _Harry Potter_.

_Harry Potter_.

The Latin Class.

"I think," announced-whispered a girl, "that The Evil SAS Soldier in the Back of the Class should be… Er… Voldemort!"

"He's not the evil overlord of some random group," whispered the boy next to her.

"He's the evil overlord of his SAS group," the girl pointed out. Wolf, taking the novel lying rather handily on the bench next to him (then again, it was an English classroom), slapped them both on the head, resulting in them both exclaiming in pain.

"What was that for?"

"Don't talk about people like that," Wolf snapped, ignoring the stares.

"_Don't hit my students_!"

"They weren't paying attention."

"So? You can't hit the students."

"Why not?"

"It's abuse!"

"It's a one-off thing, unless they talk about me again. Abuse is long-term, continuous assault."

The teacher glared at him, found no counter-argument, and turned back to the actor-students with a huff.

"Alex, Sarah, Matt, Jack, really, you didn't, well, you weren't supposed to rewrite the play. There's a reason," she paused, struggling to collate her thoughts. "Okay. So I asked you to perform the second scene of the first act. When I asked you to do that, I, really, did not expect a complete rewrite of Shakespeare's shortest play. So, can you do it again, correctly this time?"

The group sighed, but nodded, and once more, began their performance.

This time, they followed the play more accurately… Thank god, thought Wolf. He didn't think he would've been able to deal with another parody of him.

Sighing, he leant back against the table and watched the students around him, smirking as they didn't annoy him.

The next break, he knew, was lunch. He'd be able to get away from the annoying bastards who made up the next generation of Britain (worrying thought, that), and be able to boast to his team that he'd been able to pretty much avoid humiliation in front of the class.

What Wolf wasn't aware of was the 'Kick Me' sign Alex had slapped onto the soldier's back.

**A/N: I'm sorry. I don't think this is as good as it should be, especially since it's been so long since I updated... Tell me what you think (and any suggestions). Next installment is his PE class... **


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